"Dinner's here, guys."
"I don't want supper! I want my hat. Not this one, but that leather hat!"
"Have you seen his hat, York?"
"No. Try it, Saudi...Dalton, what kind of soup is this?"
"Fish soup."
"To hell with it! I saw bone claws. What the hell is that?"
"Rabbit soup. Didn't you stew this?"
"But I didn't handle the ingredients. I just threw it into the boiling water with the spices, carrots, and green parsley. What did you catch, Dalton?"
"I don't know. But it's not poison resistant and looks edible."
"Do you think that poisoning prey means it is not poisonous to us? Even if its meat was originally healthy, we can't eat it now!"
"I'm sure I've eliminated toxins...Why are you asking such nonsense? You drink the fastest. Besides, what else can I do? Boil the coffee beans?"
No one responded, because a terrible, eardrum-piercing wail sounded, drowning out all sounds. "You actually used my hat to serve soup!"
"Don't worry, I washed it before use and sterilized it with the newly prepared potion. If anyone tastes dandruff, it must have just fallen into it. Don't dislike it."
“Only humans lose dandruff”
"Same goes for drow."
"Very often. There's a fly in your bowl, York, do you see it?"
There were screams again, and a mess of curse words from the adventurers. "Where?"
"You didn't see it? Then you still drink?"
"What's the meaning?"
"You just swallowed it. Sorry, I thought Sita's dandruff was a fly."
"Do you still think Sita likes to eat dandruff?" There was a burst of gloating laughter, and not one person was laughing.
Uriel couldn't stand it anymore.
"Can you be quiet, everyone?" The apprentice opened his eyes, but was immediately turned away by the bonfire. "Gaia, how can you light a fire in the forest?" Other forests may be fine, but this is the shimmering forest of Saint Valoran. "Damn it, York, aren't you an adventurer? Dalton? Why didn't you remind him?"
"Stop fucking nonsense!" He was startled by a shout. It was an unfamiliar voice. who is it? "Want to drink or not! It's almost dawn, why should we sleep?"
Uriel quickly got up and hit the tree trunk with the back of his head. Ignoring the pain, he pulled out the sword with a clang and quickly threw it away. This was not his sword. The handle was dirty and dirty, and the blade was rusty, as if it would break into pieces at any time. He stared at it, wondering what was going on.
The situation did not allow him to think. There seemed to be more than four people around. A whole six, to be exact. With the help of the firelight, Uriel could see their appearance clearly: their faces were dusty, unkempt, and their eyes were sunken. They all looked like travelers after a long journey. The strange thing is that these people all have unfamiliar facial features. There is no York, Dalton or Saudi, let alone the doctor Clea. They are all obviously male. I just heard her voice, Uriel thought, could it be an auditory hallucination while half asleep?
He looked down at himself. A pair of bad boots and trouser legs rolled up to the knees. No wonder it felt so strange when standing up. The scabbard hung on the back of the belt, and most of the leather was exposed and nailed together by random stitches. The shirt was full of the sour smell of sweat, and he wore a more ragged leather armor on the outside. The raw edge of the collar could scratch his throat. In order to avoid dying in his dream, its owner cleverly wore the breastplate inside out. A strip of cloth with faded symbols was tucked haphazardly into his chest, and when he shook it open, black hay fell.
This is not a forest either. The area from the hillside to the plain is empty, with a few lonely trees dotted on the vast green land, and the moon is so thin that it is almost invisible. The bonfire burned in the wind, the ashes flying and coiled around the iron pot. A thick forked branch leaned not far away, for the handle of the iron pot was rotten.
Six people gathered around the orange flame, with twelve eyes eager to get into the pot. Several horses were tied together, munching on the grass with their heads down. It seemed that they were probably not the ones talking just now. Uriel heard clearly the voices of York and Dalton, and the poet's scream. But they are not here.
When I woke up from the dream, I found myself standing in a strange place, wearing strange clothes and weapons, and surrounded by strangers. To be honest, he was not unfamiliar with this feeling.
"I'm in a dream." Uriel muttered, "Mortus again?" The auditory hallucinations were mostly his imagination. That's what dreams are like, they bring subconscious things into this collective dream. The difference is, he's not anywhere near Hitarian. What happened this time?
"We have to walk thirty miles." The man holding the stick and acting as the cook said, "We will be there before daylight tomorrow."
"daytime?"
"It will be daytime tomorrow. Are you deaf? That's what the boss ordered."
"where are we going?"
"Didn't I say that?" the cook raised his voice, "Damn it Mortus!"
Mortus? "Wait!" Uriel blurted out, "Where are we now?"
As a result, no one paid attention to him. No one paid attention to him. "The problem is, we only have four horses. It's impossible."
"Impossible?" The chef picked up his spoon, "Explain it to the boss yourself!"
The man who answered him dodged the splash of juice and started arguing with the cook. The two people watched the excitement, ignoring the argument and focusing on the boiling soup pot. Uriel walked up to them, expecting them to respond to their questions as well as his complaints, but they ignored him too. The apprentice was disappointed.
So he took the stick from the cook's hand and knocked over the soup with one stick.
Now no one was arguing. "Damn it, Uriel, look what you've done!" one screamed.
Sorry, but I did it on purpose. He doesn't mind going further as long as it attracts attention. This is undoubtedly a dream constructed by Confessions, but Uriel should not appear here. In fact, he didn't even know when he fell asleep. What about Hitarian and Ruth? Did the Black Knight discover their night party? As long as we can communicate, these doubts can be answered.
But things didn't unfold as he expected. Just as the apprentice was about to speak, a voice suddenly spoke first: "It's not me!"
...It’s not a big deal, right? He turned his head in surprise and watched the chef dancing and shouting. "It wasn't me! The fork moved on its own!"
"It's magic," one of them concluded. He had a bald spot on the top of his head, and was covered with freckles near his nose, but there was no growth up to his chin. This guy is called "Dongyan" by his companions, and he is considered a scout of the team. "Have you become a mysterious creature, Uriel?"
"Do you think what's boiling in my pot is a magic potion? Of course it's impossible!" the chef with the same name yelled back.
"He just missed it temporarily." "Black Face" said. His was the first to question the chef. In terms of grooming, he was not much neater than the apprentice. The black beard on his face was thick and thick, and he was so dirty that he could raise a nest of cockroaches. A rag was tied around his elbow, looking like a bandage. "Don't push him, Dongyan, you know, he can't admit that he failed."
"Forget it, his accuracy will be greatly improved if his spoon comes out of the soup pot."
The five people all laughed and started a new round of sarcasm. The cook Uriel cursed and spat into the overturned soup pot. The apprentice stood there dumbfounded, hearing that of course an adventurer is an adventurer. It is impossible for a tramp to set up pots in the wilderness, let alone wear weapons and uniform armbands and make fun of his name. Although his name was not rare at all, let alone noble, it felt strange to hear these things in person.
"Don't drink my soup in the next life!" After packing his luggage, the chef threw away his spoon and stood up angrily. "Come on, we have to get to Mortus within a time limit. Just walk thirty miles on an empty stomach."
"What does this mean? As long as the horse is not hungry."
They quickly packed up their belongings and cleared away the traces of their camping trip. Still some veterans, Uriel thought to himself. When the sky was dimming, the adventurers mounted their mounts and ran towards the hills. One of the horses was ridden by two people. The two were very short and similar in appearance. They seemed to be a pair of brothers.
Uriel followed them on foot without any difficulty. They were just mortals, and even their horses couldn't run fast. It is said that the magic power of mysterious creatures can stimulate mounts and stimulate their potential, but no one has bothered to confirm it.
Maybe I shouldn't follow them, the apprentice considered staying put, waiting for Hitarian to send him away from the dream if he realized something was wrong. However, he wasn't sure what the Ringott sisters would do in the situation. The worst possibility is that they notified the Black Knight, the owner of the Confessions, and Uriel felt that there was probably no good end for him.
The high-ring magic power supports him to keep up with the war horse. It's better to go with them, after all, these people's destination is also Mortus. Uriel searched his luggage and realized that he didn't just have new clothes. The leather armor quickly turned into a shirt, and the boots returned to their original appearance. As long as he stretched out his hand, he could touch the hilt of the sword, which was the steel sword replaced in Malandeno. He was still dressed as he had been when he entered Saint Valoran, even with the Scroll of Oath in his pocket. The initial attire seemed to be an illusion caused by a mixture of dreams, but the apprentice still remembered the tobacco shaking out of the armband.
The adventurers stop again by a river, where the apprentice's namesake cook prepares lunch. It seemed like he was nothing more than a threat before. Threats between adventurers, especially between companions, are rarely fulfilled. To be honest, the same is true for their promises, unless restricted by contracts. This rest took about half an hour. By the time the taciturn "Flat-Headed" Sari finally stepped on the stirrups, the sun was already so bright that it could heat the river.
Brestatik is located north of Eastman. The hot moon here seems like the sun has set on the ground, and the temperature in the early morning can make people sweat, let alone noon. There is even a layer of steam rising from the water, where the light bends, swirls and changes colors. Between the heat and mist, the plains and hills were a blur. This is also the reason why Uriel didn't react at all when the arrow hit the "black face" neck.
By the time he came to his senses, the battle had already begun. The adventurer fell off his horse, his ankle still hanging in the stirrup. His horse ran away, and his body and luggage hung at both ends, bumping as he ran. The flying arrow let go of the mount and aimed at the living person. The remaining five people only had time to rein in their horses in the water before two more people were shot down by a second wave of arrows. The two brothers' horses were shot through the stomach, and their mounts fell into the water with them. The river water contaminated by blood spreads downstream. "Flathead" Sari was hit by an arrow in the shoulder and barely held on to the reins. The chef and "hole" escaped intact. They turned their horses and ran towards the road they came from. These adventurers were originally going to cross the river.
A whistle blew. Uriel is no stranger either. He thought he knew the identity of his attacker. Back in Mortus, a group of people also liked to start with arrows on the plains.
"Catch them!" someone shouted, and his voice penetrated the blazing sunlight and hazy water mist and penetrated into the ears. This is obviously not to remind adventurers.
The apprentice remained silent. If he guessed correctly, intervening in the dispute would mean exposing his presence. He didn't want to kill the attackers in order to save these adventurers. In fact, there was no difference at all. He didn't understand the two warring parties at all, and suspending the battle was just a redundant move in a dream, not to mention...if the black knight was attracted, these people would not survive anyway.
The attackers had rushed across the river bank. The knights were fully armed, their spears and swords gleaming with cold light, and they relied expertly on archers and formation to approach the enemy. The adventurer's escape was quickly ended. The chef and scout "Hole Eye" with the same name as Uriel surrendered. "Flathead" Sari also wanted to do the same. However, when he tried to pull out the arrow from his shoulder, the leading cavalryman A sword cut off his head.
"Why?" the cook muttered angrily. "Sari put down his sword."
"He's wounded," the scout answered. His face was very gloomy. Being a prisoner is not a pleasant thing, but if you go to the bottom of it, it must be his responsibility.
They were in no hurry to leave. The knight shook off the blood on the steel and dismounted. "Six adventurers." He raised his sword and spoke, "Now there are only two left. Tell me, where did you come from?" He did not see the apprentice.
"We are from Blackwood County, sir." The scout answered truthfully. At least Uriel knew he was telling the truth.
But the Cavaliers are obviously not so easy to believe. "What are you here for?"
"We have received instructions from the leader, sir, we must arrive at Mortus before daytime tomorrow." He also asked, "Excuse me, are you guys?"
The knight ignored him. "Who is your leader?"
"Black Bee Tahu."
"What a nobody." The knight mocked, "Don't say his name, idiot! Tell him what he does. Mercenary? Spy? Or beekeeper?"
"Mercenaries. We are all mercenaries, sir, but we are not famous and are not worth mentioning." Scout "Dongyan" told them. Although the knight's attitude was very contemptuous, he could not correct him. In fact, he knew very well that his life and that of his companions were in the hands of the person in front of him.
Uriel, the cook, said nothing. But his silence could not last long. The knight stared at him: "Where did you come from? What are you doing?"
"Coming from Blackwood County, sir, we..."
The knight swung his sword and chopped off his head. The head rolled on the grass, and the eyes widened in shock. Uriel was as surprised as he was. The apprentice watched as the knight climbed onto his horse and ordered his men to kill the scout.
